


i

by CongressIsAliens



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Angst, Drumline - Freeform, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Front Ensemble, Marching Band, Multi, Original Character Alert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-12 10:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18009671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongressIsAliens/pseuds/CongressIsAliens
Summary: The Martian’s marching band AU no one asked for.Chapters and titles are all DCI shows.(i- Blue Knights 2017)





	i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Kind of Town- Cavaliers 2005
> 
> Chris Beck is the new pit kid in town.

I walked into the band room of Elkon High, ready for the first day of band camp, bag hanging over my shoulder, and stop short. 

There are a _lot_  of people in here. There‘s wind players warming up, guard people chit chatting, the battery boisterously greeting each other, and keyboard players playing scales on the keyboards in the corner. 

I decide to walk back to the keyboard area. I am a pit person, even if I am consistently the low guy on the totem pole.

“Hi there!” I said to the guy who looks like he’s in charge. 

“Oh hey! You must be the new guy. Chris, right?” he asks me. 

“That’s me. Chris Beck.”

”Nice. I’m Aaron. Kappy told us that you’re the new guy. Where are you from?”

”I’m from Pennsylvania. But who’s Kappy?”

”Mr. Venkat Kapoor, director of the band. We just call him Kappy.”

”That’s cool.”

”Hey, can I ask you a question?”

”Go ahead.”

”What did you play in your last band?”

”I was always stuck with rack. We were a Bands of America band, and huge. I always practiced my keyboards but everyone else was better.”

”Hey, can you play something for me?”

”Sure.”

I grab a set of mallets from the bag of the marimba he’s standing next to and play my favorite piece. Mexican Dance number two. I tried to audition on it for a keyboard position, but my director said it needed “more emotion”. 

I look up and I see everyone in the pit (there’s four other people besides me and Aaron) staring at me.  

“Dude, other people were better than you? How? You’re better than me!” Aaron says once I finish. 

“They just were. It’s alright.”

”Once Mitch gets an eye on you, you’re gonna be like first marimba!” a different girl says. 

“HEY BAND!” A loud, commanding voice says from the front of the room. 

“HEY WHAT?” everyone (including me, this is a universal band thing) says. 

“Welcome to band camp!” Some cheers go up. “Most of you know me, but for the newbies, I’m Melissa Lewis, but I’d prefer you call me Lewis. This year, we’ve got a few announcements about players. Returning from his exchange trip in Germany, Alex Vogel, trumpet!”

Everyone cheers. He must be popular. 

“We also have a student who moved here from Pennsylvania. Say hello to new pit player and junior Chris Beck!” 

The winds, guard and pit cheer. The battery stands in silence. I elbow Aaron. 

“Hey, what’s their deal?”

”Battery hates us. We hate them.”

”Ah. Wait, why?”

”Shh. Tell ya later.”

”And we have a new visual tech, Annie Montrose!” The band claps politely. “Now, please try not to make her disappear like the incident with Sanders, ok?” Everyone laughs nervously. I don’t think I want to know. 

“Now, Kapoor is talking with the techs and will be here in a few moments, so winds in the rotunda, pit in the band room, battery in the choir room, and guard in the south hall for music block. I will be with the winds. Remember, PT block has been moved to after music block. Drink lots of water today, it’s hot. Ready...split!”

Everyone else files out of the room. 

I look around the percussion area. There are two marimbas, two vibraphones, a xylophone that’s clearly seen much better days, a synthesizer, sound cart, a trap table piled high with hand percussion, and two speakers on dollies. A set of timpani, some tubular bells, a concert snare, a concert bass drum, a gong, a stand with crash cymbals, and a glockenspiel fill out the section. 

“Welcome to the pit, Chris. This is Ellie,” Aaron points to the girl who gave me the compliment, “Hunter,” he points to a boy with a green bass guitar around his neck, “Trinity,” a girl with a seriously thick blond braid waves, “Aiden,” the boy going through the hand percussion on the table turns and does finger guns, “and you already know me. Mitch Henderson, Mitch, is our instructor. And there he is!” The door opens and a man with walks in. 

“Hey guys! Great to see you all back. For the new guys, I’m Mitch Henderson, but you should call me Mitch. I’m your pit instructor, and this season’s gonna be great. So I recognize most of you. Any freshmen?” I guess no freshmen. I’m the only new face here. “Guess not. One new guy. We’ll get to know each other later. But first! Instruments! Everyone push all the stuff into two lines in the middle. Marimbas and electronics up front, vibes and rack in the back. We’re not going to bring out the xylo, I don’t think anyone’s playing it yet. I’ll help y’all. Ready go!”

We get everything into the middle of the room (after some bumbling about) and Mitch speaks again. 

“Everyone get behind the instrument you played last season. New guy, how about you behind...that vibraphone. Say, what’s your name?”

”I’m Chris.”

”Good to meet you. Now, let’s warm up, then we’ll do part assignments.”

We spend about ten minutes running Greene scales and doing an exercise called four-three-two-one. It’s new to me but it’s easy. Mitch really likes my technique. We also do some four mallet exercises and Mitch watches me most of the time. 

“Ok then. You all are looking really good. Now, we’re all going to play a little solo piece, under a minute if you can, on your preferred instrument. If you don’t have anything, make something up. You all know your chord basics, stick with those. Aaron first.”

Aaron and Ellie must have done marimba last year. They play their bits, then Hunter does a bass lick, Trinity plays an incredible riff on the synth, and Aiden does this bit with like five rack instruments. He must play kit or something. 

When it’s my turn, I play a minute of my solo. I almost never got to practice on a marimba, so I adapted it for vibraphone. 

“Nice! Aight. I assume that Trinity is the only synth and Hunter is the only bass?”

We all nod. 

“Cool. Hunter, you’re bass, Trinity, you’re synth. Aiden are you the only rack player? Are you a rack player, Chris?”

”I was, but I really hate it. I was never good enough for mallets for my old director. I really love mallets.” I say. 

“Clearly. Aiden, you’re rack. And mallets! I’m going to say that Aaron is first marimba and section leader because he’s a senior and knows how this all works, as well as he’s awesome. Chris, you’re the other marimba, and Ellie, you’re going to be on vibraphone. I’m going to get you a great part, so no hard feelings on the demotion, alright?”

”Alright.” she says. 

“Cool. We actually have music today, so I’m going to pass that out, and then we’ll get to work!”

He hands out the music (which looks really hard, actually) and I take my part. 

“This year’s show is called Serpeinte and it’s a spanish themed show. The auxiliary parts are incredible, Aiden.”

Aiden, nose in his music, gives a victorious shout. “VIBRASLAP! YESSSS!”

”Glad you like it. So. Let’s start it, tempo for the opener is a hundred and twenty, so let’s sightread. Let me just find my sticks and we’ll get started.” 

An hour and a half later, and some hand-hurtingly loud segments, it’s time for PT. As pit doesn’t march, this is just for fun. 

It’s harder than it was at my other school. There, we did some running, some pushups, some sit-ups, and that was pretty much it. Here, we’re stretching, doing those PE-class warmups, the ones with the jogging and skipping and high knees, running around the school, jumping jacks, sit-ups, pushups, and more. 

At the halfway break for water, I decide to introduce myself to some more people. Why not? 

I decide to talk to a short girl in a Star Wars t-shirt. 

“Hey.” I say. 

”Hey.”

”So, uh, how are you?”

”Okay. PT sucks, but on the last day of camp it’s the _best_.”

”It is?” I ask. 

“Oh, right, you’re the new guy. Chris, right?”

”Yeah.”

”I’m Beth. Hey, guess what I play.”

My first guess is that she plays flute, but looks can be deceiving. “Sousaphone.”

”How- how’d you guess? Everyone always guesses flute!” She’s surprised. 

“I was just joking- you actually play sousaphone?”

”Yeah. It took a while before I was used to it. Now Rick, my friend, makes the worst puns in the world, by the way, plays flute and everyone thinks he plays trumpet ‘cause of his ego.” 

“Which one is Rick?”

”The guy over there, next to the tree.” She points at a tall, hispanic dude under the tree. “And I presume you’ve seen Alex, just got back from Germany two weeks ago, and Lewis, my girlfriend.”

”Yeah, I’ve seen them. Wait, Lewis is your girlfriend? Drum major Lewis?”

”That very one. Hey, do you want to eat lunch with us?”

”Sure!” Why not. I don’t have anyone else, except maybe Aaron. But I want to know people. 

”Alright, after PT is over, follow me. We eat in the south hall, but you don’t know where that is.”

Right after she finishes talking, Shelly, the guard instructor and the girl in charge of PT, calls for us to return. 

We do more running, then I find out why everyone brought their insturments out. 

“Five minutes in Heck, everyone!” Shelly calls out to a chourus of groans. “Insturments up in perfect posture on my count, pit, plank. Ready, and UP!”

Five minutes of torture (I can see why everyone groaned) later, we’re allowed to rest. “Working up to ten minutes by the end of band camp, everyone!” Shelly says, and, oh god, ten minutes is going to be so much worse. The good thing is that after a few cooldown stretches, we’re allowed to go eat. Half an hour of chilling in the school. Cool. 

I grab my lunchbag from the band room and follow Beth, Rick, Alex, and Lewis out to the south hall. We sit against the wall and they introduce themselves. 

“I’m Rick. Beth already probably told you I play flute, because she thinks she’s hilarious.”

”It kind of is.” I say. 

He gasps in mock outrage. “I can- _not_ believe it. You are just as bad as her.”

”Guys, please do not fight.” Alex says. 

”Oh my god, you even have the humor of a German. I knew you got an accent, but wow.”

”I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself to you. I’m Alex.” he says.

”Hi, Alex. You must be pretty awesome, everyone cheered when Lewis announced you.”

”I would say that I have a lot of friends.”

”And whatever Lewis says gets cheered anyway.”

”That’s not true.” Lewis says. (of course, we clap). “Oh, come on.”

”You guys are really cool.” It’s true, they are. Even though I’ve know them only a bit. 

“We like to fool ourselves into thinking that. Hey, where’s Mark?” Beth asks. 

“I don’t know.” Rick says. 

“He’s in the battery.” Lewis says, like it’s the most obvious reason in the world. 

”So?” Alex asks. 

“The battery and the pit hate each other. He told me during PT that he can’t be seen with a pit person, they’d kick him out of the battery so he has to do pit.” Lewis explains. 

“Wait, why? Why does the battery hate the pit?” I ask. 

”I have no idea. It’s just petty.” Lewis says.

”Also, who’s Mark?”

”Mark Watney. Snare drummer, brownish hair, kinda tall, plant geek. Also a junior, like you. One of our friends. Pretty chill dude.” Rick says. 

“Huh.” 

“It is really petty that the battery hates the pit. You should ask Aaron why.” Alex adds.

We sit and talk and eat for about a half hour, then we have to go back to our groups. Everyone but the pit goes outside to learn to march, and we in the pit push outside to get some fresh air and to start practicing getting out the door. The door to the band room here is smaller than my old schools’, so it takes me longer. Add that to the fact I’m not used to handling a marimba, so Aaron has to help me, which is embarrassing. 

We work on the music more, and add a simple mallets down at the end. 

We get a fifteen minute all-band break about at about three o’clock. I hang out with my new friends again. They’re all sweaty from being outside, but they still take me on a tour of the school. It’s better than the one I got from the principal in June, a few days after school ended. This one is all about fitting in and knowing the inside jokes instead of “this is the library”. 

“These are the senior benches.” Rick says. “Only seniors can sit on these. If anyone else tries, they get pantsed and shoved into Four Corners.”

”By the way, do NOT go into Four Corners during school or directly before or after, because it is always swamped.” Beth adds. 

”Always?” I ask. 

“Always.” Alex says. 

“Oh, you can’t talk. You haven’t been here in a year. You’re practically a freshman.” Rick teases. 

“I’m a junior.” Alex states. 

“We know.” Lewis says. 

At the end of the day, after sectionals (yay more music oh god my hands hurt), I wave goodbye to my new friends and head out to meet my dad, who’s picking me up. 

This season’s gonna be great. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write a lot of marching band fics, including some original works! Here’s my tumblr too, if you want to see a lot of band humor: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/addicted-to-percussion


End file.
